


These Sun-filled Days

by conchepcion



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, Post-Deathly Hallows, Slight-Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 03:18:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7668127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conchepcion/pseuds/conchepcion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's her birthday, and she's just waiting like she's been for a while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Sun-filled Days

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this ages ago, and posted it on tumblr. It gathered so many notes I thought it noteworthy (hah) enough to just publish here. Maybe one day I'll continue it out of sheer want to feel those 'blanks'.

The wind rattled the parchment in her hand, but she held it steady there she sat on the grassy ground. Her red hair kept flying out of the knot, which was a hopeless struggle. She couldn’t complain. It was a rather hot day, and any gust of wind was a relief.

 

Licking her lips, she read on - 

 

_My mother keeps saying she knew something was missing though, even if it was a spell. They weren’t that pleased over my ‘antics’, though both of them did become rather tanned in Australia, which my mother has mentioned twice already. Somehow father started taking up surfing, which is a Muggle activity on the ocean._

 

_You’ve probably heard of it?_

 

_Unlike Ron who just got really flustered when he came on a visit. He says hello by the way, but he’s returning to the shop with Fred soon._

 

_It’s better that way really, and we all need a break after all that’s happened._

 

 _I just wish Harry realises that too. I hope you’ll tell him that, even if you haven’t seen him properly since Hogwarts. Oh, who am I kidding? - -_ And then began the long excruciating reminder of it being her seventh year at Hogwarts. Her interest dampened after that, almost laughing at the normal tone of Hermione’s voice in the sentences that followed. 

 

Just like the old days, except, they’d both be in the same year. Hermione was unsurprisingly keen on returning to take up her missing year and Ginny was rather surprised she wasn’t having to do her sixth-year over again. Ron had said out of ear shot when Hermione had been over at the Burrow, “She just wants to be Head Girl, really.” 

 

She was a shoe-in after all. 

 

Not that either of the three - Harry, Ron and Hermione weren’t being offered job after job, but all of them seemed to be taking up different mantles. They couldn’t be the ‘Golden Trio’, as the papers referred to them these days with Harry grimacing in various photographs in The Daily Prophet. 

 

No, they were trying to live their lives. 

 

Harry was the one who was worse off really. Already an established Auror and roped into every single capture of remaining Dark Wizards who were still pledging loyalty to old Voldy-socks. He was helping Kingsley really. The pair of them trying to put a sort of equilibrium back into the Wizarding community - a sort of - ‘we’re safe’, but it doesn’t stop Rita Skeeter writing irritating little tid-bits about how haggard Harry looks. 

 

Ginny sighed, folding up the parchment and stuffing it back into its envelope, as she surveyed the grounds. The house was quiet behind her, and she’d chosen to settle in the garden instead, relishing the fresh air. Percy was still over, still trying to make amends, even if he couldn’t fix everything. 

 

No one could fix it. 

 

It wasn’t his fault, and she reminded him when he had moment of doubts. 

 

Fred had chosen to be there. They’d all chosen to fight. It could have been any of them, and he’d gone down laughing… Immediately she blinked, overwhelmed by the sudden swoop that took place in her stomach, and she knew what it was. She’d been pushing it aside ever since his funeral. Her mother had been a mess. Days before she’d been tidying up the house, sorting out every little detail.

 

She’d barely slept, and Ginny had overheard her tearfully exclaim to her dad who’d tried to coax her to bed - “I - keep seeing his face, Arthur. I keep seeing it.” And he’d just let her go on. After the funeral she’d finally gone to bed, but she stayed in bed for three days. Everyone tried getting her up, but it wasn’t until George told her to ‘ _Pull yourself together, woman’_ , almost shouting at her - that the pair quarreled - until they all could hear her wailing loudly. She got out of bed after that, and became somewhat normal, sniffling from time to time. 

 

Weeks had passed since that, and summer finally had its hooks in them all. Visitors came and went to the Burrow daily, with either good news or just visiting for visiting’s sake. Despite it, Ginny still felt it was quiet. She knew it had to do with everything that had happened - but she was ready to move on. The whole point of it all in the end was so they could enjoy the _time_  after, even if everyone couldn’t be there, but in some ways they were. 

 

At least according to Luna Lovegood that was. 

 

She’d gotten a letter from Luna three days ago where she referred to the strange _veil_  they’d discovered in the Department of Mysteries. Ginny didn’t know what she’d heard, not really, but even if it felt somewhat naive, it felt good to believe that Fred was somewhere good. 

 

Wiping away the stray tear that fell across her freckled cheek, she was suddenly alert to a ‘ _crack!’_ She’d been trying to distract herself all day, since he’d not managed to come round the last couple of times either. “Ginny?” she got to her feet, quickly dusting off the grass and grime that had gotten onto her trousers, before she stared at the familiar lanky sight of Harry.

 

 He looked tired, his hair windswept and wild, green eyes bright behind those glasses of his, but all in all, _happy_. 

 

“Thought you might not show,” she said trying to sound casual, and not too eager for him to be there, even if her eyes were trying to remember every single detail of how he looked in front of her. 

 

They’d not spoken about anything yet. Neither had had the chance. He’d just given her a look, and she knew it meant something. They’d both been trying to get back _there_ for days and weeks, but it had been hard. She couldn’t expect anything else from him really. There would never really be normal with Harry, and she didn’t mind. “It’s your birthday,” he said sounding almost annoyed. “Of course I’d be here.”

 

“Not until the sun goes down,” she corrected.

 

He looked suddenly guilty, and she immediately crossed her arms. “You can’t stay, can you-,”

 

“They - they need me in the ministry-,” he blurted out, messing with his hair, as if he knew she had a weakness for his nervous habit. 

 

She drew a breath, as she carefully said, “As long as I have you in my room tonight.” He looked like he’d been hit by a bludger. “Not like that - - - _yet_.”

 

Grinning at him, she cherished the sight of his red cheeks.


End file.
